


Not a Traitor

by WhiteFoxKitsune (ProwlingThunder)



Series: Little Stars [32]
Category: Invasion America (Cartoon)
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Military, Gen, Post-Charles Explosion, The Tyrusian Coffee Addiction, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:37:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8127137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/WhiteFoxKitsune
Summary: He was an engineer, not a traitor.





	

Greg Montoya was an engineer.  
  
A lowly, dirty, terrified engineer. Who'd been charged with treason. His fingers shook as he ran them through soot-stained hair, near-silver eyes flickering around the dimly lit room. A cubical, really. All metal on all sides, with a singular door and no window. The chair was hard, uncomfortable, and made moreso as the only other person in the tiny room watched him with a gaze so sympathetic it was hard to believe they'd charged him with treason, too.  
  
"Drink your coffee, Montoya. It will help."   
  
Greg twitched violently. The other's voice was smooth and gentle, but the silences between brief conversations were so long....  
  
"I never.. I didn't..."  
  
"I know."  
  
The engineer floundered, surprised, and looked up again, taking in the site of the other. He'd been pulled from work, probably one of the last of the Charles survivors to be interrogated, and here he was in a room still waiting for it to come. He knew he cleaned up nice- his Kia had told him so, a young pediatritian based at a civilian hospital in the next town, keeping watch over a small cluster of hybrids and doctoring their reports. But his pale hair and equally pale eyes had nothing on the jet-black locks of the Tyrusian officer across from him. Eyes of the darkest purple bore into him, understanding radiating from around the room like oppresive smoke.  
  
It made Greg nervous. The uniform meant he was military, but the way he spoke meant he was probably someone much higher. And Greg had been around enough to know what the insignia on him meant. The man sitting across from him was a psycologist, and definately unhappy about his situation. The psycologist might be a traitor. Greg wondered what that meant.  
  
And the fact that he believed him....  
  
"..erh?"  
  
"You are not a traitor. You never had a choice. When Engineering was taken, you tripped and hit your head. Engineers Webb and Strom smuggled you out of Engineering when the intruders were distracted with base personnel. You woke up in the medical bay with a slight concussion and a few burns from equipment."  
  
"...how do you know that...?"  
  
The Officer smiled. "You were telling your escorts when they brought you in."  
  
Greg frowned, brow furrowing. He didn't recall remember if he had or not. He probably had. He wasn't a traitor!  
  
"Drink your coffee, Montoya. It will help clear your mind."  
  
Hands still unsteady, Greg curled his fingers around the coffee cup, using both hands so he didn't drop the precious, Heaven-graced liquid. As his wife had mentioned, wasting coffee should be a crime.  
  
"..you don't look like a traitor either," Greg ventured, sipping at the rim. The Officer watched him, and Greg thought he saw a hint of a smile. He wasn't sure though. "Why are you sitting with me?"  
  
"They put me in here, and have not come back to tell me it is time to go."  
  
"How long have you been waiting?"  
  
"Only twelve hours." Two of those, Greg had been sitting here too. The Officer must have took a nap.   
  
"I--thats--"  
  
"Drink your coffee, Montoya." Greg did, and the silence that came seemed less oppressing.  
  
Still, he couldn't help but pause at the doorway a half-hour later, when a pair of armed soldiers opened the door and motioned to him. He abruptly realised he hadn't told the other who he was through this whole time, yet the Officer had used his name several times. "How did you know my name?"  
  
The dark-haired man smiled, and accepted a fresh cup of coffee from one of the soldiers. The smile sent shivers up his spine. "You told me."


End file.
